


sleeping in the morgue

by sevensevan



Series: pride month 2018 [24]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 07:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15044132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensevan/pseuds/sevensevan
Summary: Natasha wakes up in the hospital, and the first thing she hears is Wanda's voice.





	sleeping in the morgue

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to Julia here on ao3 for the prompt. i did my own take on it for sure, but i hope you like it anyway. title from epilogue by the antlers, which is on the album hospice, which i Will eventually write a fic off of because it's too horribly tragic and depressing not to. anyways. enjoy.

Natasha wakes up slowly.

It’s not an experience she has very often; the feeling of a gradual return to consciousness, everything blurry and vague and confusing. Normally it’s instant. She’s good at that, going from unconsciousness to battle-readiness in seconds. But this time, she drifts slowly, hazily, back into the waking world.

“Hey,” a voice murmurs from beside her as Natasha’s eyes open. Natasha blinks against the harshness of the light. Her conscious thoughts are sluggish, but her brain is already analyzing her surroundings: the white ceiling, the bright lights, the just-the-wrong-side-of-comfortable sheets, the smell of cleanser, the beeping of a monitor. She’s in a hospital.

Natasha glances around as best she can without moving her neck. It doesn’t _hurt_ , likely due to the IV she can see out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t really feel like moving it, either. Above her, the nondescript ceiling. The IV. A TV in the upper corner across the room. A window, the shutters only half-drawn. Natasha can’t see the sky outside, but there doesn’t appear to be any light coming in.

And, to her right, Wanda.

“How do you feel?” Wanda asks softly, her voice quiet, gentle. She presses a button, and the head of the bed lifts up a bit, propping Natasha into a half-sitting position. Natasha tries to respond, but she can barely make a sound, what little she can manage coming out as a soft whine. Wanda shushes her gently, smiling just a bit. She looks exhausted, some small part of Natasha’s brain realizes. Wanda picks up a paper cup from somewhere beside the bed and spoons something out, offering it to Natasha. _Ice chips_. She fucking hates ice chips. They’re the least satisfying thing; they give out just enough to make sure the recipient is fully aware of just how thirsty they are.

Nevertheless, Natasha accepts them, savoring the small amount of water they yield and desperately wishing for more. Wanda continues to spoon them into her mouth, and under different circumstances, Natasha might be embarrassed that such a thing is necessary.

That’s not true. Two years ago, Natasha would’ve been embarrassed. Perhaps even a year ago. But one of the greatest things Wanda has taught her is that it isn’t embarrassing to need help. Natasha still has problems accepting that most of the time, but not with Wanda. _Never_ with Wanda.

While Natasha slowly manages to eat enough ice to regain her ability to speak, she goes through her scattered, confused memories, piecing back together what she’s doing here and how she ended up in the hospital in the first place.

“You saved my life,” Natasha says eventually, her voice raspy but clear. Wanda sets the ice back down. She smiles a bit, more of a flicker of movement at one corner of her mouth than anything, but it doesn’t seem happy.

“I told you I should come,” Wanda says. Natasha reaches out one hand (oh God, she did _something_ to her elbow, _fuck_ that hurts) and covers Wanda’s where it rests on the bed.

“Will I live?” she asks, joking. Wanda stares down at their hands.

“You wouldn’t have,” she says. “If I had been a _second_ later—“

“You weren’t,” Natasha interrupts. “You weren’t. I’m right here.”

“You almost weren’t.” Natasha doesn’t have a response for that. Wanda turns her hand over beneath Natasha’s, running her thumb over Natasha’s knuckles. “You have a lot of injuries,” she says finally. “Broken collarbone. Internal bleeding. Terrible concussion. Sprained elbow. Too many bruises to count. Whiplash. Burn on your stomach.” Natasha exhales heavily at that. Burns are the worst kind of wound. She takes a moment to be thankful for whatever’s being pumped through her IV, keeping the pain at bay, and hopes the nurses keep it coming.

“Any idea how long recovery will take?” Natasha asks. Wanda’s hand stills.

“Not long enough,” she mutters, more to herself than Natasha. “Three months, they recommend.” So a month and a half, maybe two.

“Too long,” Natasha says. Wanda says nothing for a long moment, long enough that Natasha begins to feel uncomfortable.

“I know how it is, you know,” Wanda says eventually. “How it feels, to be—to have drive, to want to help people. I do the same thing.” Natasha frowns.

“I know,” she says.

“I would not ask you to quit,” Wanda says. “I know you can’t. I can’t, either. But it hurts to see you this way. And understanding doesn’t make me worry any less.” Natasha bites her lip, squeezing Wanda’s hand.

“You want me to take the full three months,” she says. Wanda sort of half-laughs, worry and fear and anxiety and relief all rushing out in a short, breathy sound.

“I would like that, yes,” she says. Natasha nods in agreement.

“I will,” she says softly. They just look at each other for a moment. “You saved my life,” Natasha says eventually. “Thank you.”

“It was too close this time,” Wanda says.

“I know.” Wanda lays the bed back down after awhile, and Natasha drifts off again, unable to shake the feeling that someday, it’s going to be more than too close. It’s going to be too _late_.

Someday, one of them isn’t going to come home.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm no longer taking prompts for pride month; if you sent me one i promise i'm working on filling it. find me on tumblr @daisys-quake. thanks for reading; leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed.


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